Slytherin Masks
by Tyra Kaelar
Summary: What if Harry had known about the wizarding world before his 11th birthday? What if Dumbledore was more manipulative than anyone knew? What if Harry was aware of his manipulations and was a lot less forgiving? Well, then you’d have a whole new story.
1. Chapter 1

Yada yada yada, we all know none of this belongs to me, do I really have to say it?

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Prologue

A young boy with brilliant green eyes and shaggy black hair watched his cousin and his friends from a window covertly. Inside the public library he was safe, his cousin Dudley would never set foot in one, and he'd already learned the value of knowledge, even if he was forbidden to do better than his cousin.

The boy was turning 7 years old this summer but in reality he looked little more than 5. If one looked closely they could see the fading bruises, the ragged clothes, and the wary look in his eyes that a child his age should never have. But for all that, the boy was much more unusual than even he knew.

Harry James Potter, known to his 'family' as boy, or freak, had been left there when his parents had been killed by Albus Dumbledore, and he was a wizard. But what he'd learned in life so far was that knowledge was power, to never trust adults, and never trust after betrayal, and more importantly, he knew how to play the roles he was given, to hide who he was to survive, forcing him to grow up much more quickly than any child should. Yes, Harry Potter was certainly an unusual boy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Harry peeked out from the library, making sure that Dudley and his gang had left. He breathed a sigh of relief when he couldn't see them, but just as quickly the tension returned to his frame as he caught a glimpse of the time. It was almost four o'clock and his Aunt and Uncle would have expected him home by now. School let out at three thirty, and he was expected home right after for chores. Not that he wanted to go home, he hated it there, but he'd already learned that his life was easier if he played the role he was given. He no longer tried to do well in school, his Aunt and Uncle punished him from doing better than Dudley, not that that was hard, but that didn't mean that he didn't learn all that he could.

He dragged himself from his thoughts, giving a quick wave to the librarian before he bolted home, hoping that he would make it there before they realized he was late.

He slowed as he approached number four Privet drive, quietly opening the back door and trying to sneak in. He crept softly toward his cupboard, planning on dropping off his school stuff and beginning on his list of chores. Just as he thought he'd made it undetected, he heard his Aunt coming down from upstairs.

"Boy, where have you been", his Aunt screeched, "you were supposed to be home half an hour ago, you're a lazy waste of space just like your father. You should be grateful we took you in rather than leave you at an orphanage and this is how you repay us. You'd better finish your chores before your Uncle gets home, and don't expect any supper tonight."

_Damn_, he thought, almost made it. "Yes Aunt Petunia," he said, pulling on the mask he'd crafted to survive in this house, subserviently lowering his head and meekly accepting. Inside he was seething but he's long since learned that talking back only made the punishment worse.

He quickly made his way out into the back yard, starting on the gardening. The garden was in full bloom now with the advent of June, and school was almost over. Most kids were looking forward to it, but all it meant to him was that he'd be forced to spend more of his days in his own private hell, and more time for his oh so loving family to pile on the chores. He quickly lost himself in his chores, letting his mind drift, and before he knew it he was started out of his thoughts by his Uncles voice.

"Boy, what's this I hear about you slacking off", his Uncle roared, his face already turning red with anger.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon, I didn't mean to," Harry cried, trying to head his Uncle off before he really got going, pretending to shake with fear, a fear that was only partly feigned no matter what he pretended. He dodged as his Uncle took a swing at him, hoping that that was the end of it.

"Well boy, seeing as you decided to slack off this afternoon you'll just have to make it up tonight. You can spend the night in the attic, and it had better be spotless by the time I let you out tomorrow or you can just stay home tomorrow and stay up there without meals."

His Uncle grabbed his shoulder and dragged him up the stairs, pulling down the stairs to the ladder and shoving him up before slamming the stairs and door shut behind him. His uncle slammed his fist into the trap door, startling him, "You'd better be finished by tomorrow morning, boy."

Harry sighed as he surveyed the dusty attic in the dimming light. Oh well, first things first, he walked further into the attic and pulled on the cord to turn the light on before the sun set. Seeing the mess in full light just made him more depressed, he'd be lucky if he managed to get this all done by morning.

_Oh well, might as well get started_, he thought, starting to clear the furniture and boxes to the edges into organized piles. Before he'd gotten very far he saw a trunk over in the far corner of the attic. Something about it fascinated him, and he slowly made his way towards it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Harry stared at the trunk he'd been drawn to. He'd been up in the attic many times before and yet he'd never seen it before. It was an old fashioned trunk, with deep mahogany panels and a silver engraving embossed on the lid, of a stag prancing with a lily woven through its antlers. He reached out cautiously, running his fingers over the stag, before he felt a sharp pinch and pulled back, muffling his yelp.

He watched in shock as the engraving glowed, and the trunk clicked open. He slowly lifted the lid, curiosity overriding his natural caution. His breath caught as the first thing he saw was a letter sitting on top of a pile of books. The thick creamy parchment was folded into thirds with his name written in a beautiful feminine cursive. He slowly opened the letter, his eyes widening with disbelief and shock as he read.

My Darling Baby Boy,

If you're reading this it means your father and I are gone and you've been placed with my sister Petunia against our wishes.

Given that, I have a lot to explain to you my darling. I suppose I should start at the beginning. When I was 11 years old I was invited to attend a special school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You see, I found out I had magic! I was a witch, and a whole new world opened up around me. I met your father at Hogwarts, and while it was hardly the smoothest path, he became the love of my life and I married him right after graduation.

But then, things are seldom that simple. At the same time, a dark wizard was rising to power, waging a war of terror on the wizarding world based on the premise that some backgrounds were more desirable than others. Lord Voldemort, as he called himself, felt that 'muggleborns', those who weren't born to a witch and wizard, should be killed. Hundreds upon hundreds were killed, along with anyone who opposed him.

The only people who opposed him were the Order of the Phoenix, a rebel group led by Albus Dumbledore, a powerful 'light' wizard. Your father and I were also members of this group.

Just before you were born a prophecy was made, that the one who could defeat the Dark Lord, Voldemort, would be born 'as the 7th month dies', born to those who had 'thrice defied him.' That fit either me, or another member of the Order, Alice Longbottom. Both of our families went into hiding for protection.

I've never trusted Dumbledore, he manipulates people like chess pieces, sacrificing them just as easily for the 'greater good.' However, I had more than a few tricks up my sleeve. On my 16th birthday I came into my inheritance and found out a few surprising facts. Firstly, I wasn't muggleborn, I was descended from a line of squibs, and even more surprising was the fact that I was descended from Salazar Slytherin, the supposedly 'dark' founder of Hogwarts. As well, I was a seer. Not extraordinarily powerful, but enough.

My new gift meant that I knew that Voldemort would find us after we went into hiding, and that Dumbledore would override our wishes a place you with Petunia. I don't know how this came about, but knowing the outcome was enough. I began to plan.

This trunk will reveal itself to you when you are old enough to understand its contents, and within it is everything you will need. You see my darling, You are the child of prophecy and it will fall to you to defeat Voldemort, though I wish there was a way to spare you this.

Dumbledore placed you with my sister with the intent to leave you ignorant of the wizarding world, though what his purposes in doing so I can only guess at. However, the less you know, the more he will be able to manipulate you and control your path. He will more than likely try to mold you into the perfect weapon and it will be up to you to forge your own path.

Within this trunk is everything you'll need to forge your own path, including another identity so that you may enter the wizarding world without anyone the wiser.

Remember that knowledge is power, and that with it you gain the power to choose your own path.

Follow your heart my darling, and know that I will always love you.

Love, Mom

Harry sat beside the trunk, the letter still clutched tightly in his hands, with silent tears sliding down his cheeks. She had loved him, the Dursleys were wrong, he wasn't a freak, he was a wizard and his mother had been a witch.

After a few minutes he set the letter aside, still mulling everything he's learned over. Looking into the trunk again his breath caught as he saw another piece of parchment with his name on it, this time his name written in a more masculine script. He snatched up the letter he was sure his father had written to him.

Hey Prongslet,

Your Mum's probably already covered the basics so I'll skip straight to the fun stuff.

I had this trunk created especially for you. It can only be opened by your blood the first time when you touch the engraving on the front, and after that it can only be opened by you as it is keyed to your magical signature. Within this trunk are 7 compartments aside from the one you see now that acts as a disguise and currently only contains the basics – the real library is inside. Your Mum told me to make it so that you can live in it comfortably so that's what I did. The compartments are bedroom, common room, kitchen, exercise room, potions lab, library, and an outdoor area with a green house. Any of these rooms can be access from each other inside the trunk and you can access the common room from the outside by touching the stag engraving and stating that the son of prongs requests entry.

The stag is my animagus form, nicknamed Prongs. Your Mum and I left you some of our journals so that you can get to know us even though we are gone.

This trunk contains everything you need to know to get started so have fun with it.

On a more serious note, as your mother explained, you were never meant to be given to Petunia and while your Mum saw that, we have no idea how it came to happen. You should have been living with your godfather and my best friend, Sirius Black. However, I can hazard a guess as to what happened. When we went into hiding we were protected by the Fidelius Charm, which hides the secret of a location in one person so no one can find you unless they give you up. Our secret keeper was going to be Sirius but at the last minute we changed it to another of my school friends, Peter Pettigrew. Seeing as Voldemort found us I can only assume he betrayed us and Sirius was thought to be the secret keeper.

However this was no doubt helped along by Dumbledore in his plot to control you. He wouldn't have had any control over you is Sirius had been your guardian. As your godfather, it is his job to always put your welfare first.

At this point there is nothing you can do, as 'Harry Potter' cannot know of the wizarding world yet.

Protect yourself and learn all you can so that you are able to make your own stand.

Choose who you trust carefully, and trust your instincts.

No matter your choices I will always love you and be proud of you my son.

Love, Dad.

Harry smiled as he set down his Dad's letter on top of his Mum's. Life was about to get interesting.


End file.
